


History

by Trash



Category: Linkin Park
Genre: Cheating bastard, Infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-21
Updated: 2013-11-21
Packaged: 2018-01-02 06:15:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1053467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash/pseuds/Trash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Same city, different situation. The A Thousand Suns tour reminds Chester that nothing is forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	History

Chester is sitting in the front lounge of the bus smoking when Mike stumbles out of Brad's bunk with his underwear on inside out and hickies sucked all over his neck. They both stare at each other for a second, a blush rising hot and fast up Mike's neck to flush his face whilst Chester takes a drag of his cigarette.

"He's good in bed, right?"

Mike looks away, folds one arm across his chest and grabs his opposite elbow, shielding himself.

"That was always his problem. He knew he was a good lay so sometimes to piss him off, after I'd come I'd just roll my eyes and go, 'is that it?'"

This could be mistaken for friendly conversation, making the best of a fairly awkward moment. The pair of them know, though, that this is as much of a pissing competition as it is a conversation. Chester stubs his cigarette out in the ashtray in front of him and gets to his feet, going to the fridge. His hand barely grazes the side of the can of beer when Mike takes a deep breath.

"What?"

Mike shrugs, still hugging himself. "I just...don't you think you should...I mean, ninety days is a lot of hard work to break."

"Ninety days sobriety has nothing on a two year relationship, Mike. Things like that are easily cast aside, apparently." Chester picks out the beer and closes the fridge quietly, straightens up and challenges Mike to say anything. They stand in silence for a while before Chester walks away, back to his bunk.

Sitting alone in the darkness, the only sounds to be heard are the engine purring beneath them as they cruise to the next city and Brad's quiet gasps, Chester stares at the can in his hands. And maybe he does value his sobriety more than he acts, but Mike doesn't need to know that. Guilt, he finds, usually eats people away in the end.

***

England is cold in winter, Chester realises. The bar they're going was recommended by a girl with a pushup bra and too much makeup but Brad says they should go, regardless of the posers who drink there. It's nowhere near their hotel, and you don't have to pay to get in, and Chester couldn't feel any less comfortable. But still, Brad presses his hand to the small of his back and the warmth lessens the dread.

The bar sells whisky, primarily, which melts the icicles Chester insists have frozen themselves on his balls. Brad laughs and buys them shots, which they pound, and drags Chester back out into the winter weather to smoke. There's a jukebox and someone chooses Papercut and Chester cringes.

"Time to go?" Brad asks, even though he doesn't have to.

They call a cab and makeout in the back all the way across London back to their hotel where they stumble into the elevator, hot whisky kisses and cold hands brushing under shirts all the way to the top floor. In bed Chester clings to Brad, afraid to let go.

Brad presses his lips to Chester's ear and whispers, "I love you."

And Chester says, "We all die alone."

And Brad laughs.

And Chester wakes up, two years later, same country different situation. And finds he can't stop the tears from coming.


End file.
